a fallen angel
by sketch the stars
Summary: she's a monster, a ruthless killing machine, and most importantly...a fallen angel. / clato / bts fic exchange at caesar's palace for zoey!


**sum; **she's a monster, a ruthless killing machine, and most importantly...a fallen angel / catoclove / bts fic exchange at caesar's palace for zoey (funeral suits)!

**prompts;** "If I asked you, would you give me the world on a silver platter?" ; fallen angels ;_Pursuit of Happiness _by Kid Cudi ; funeral wreaths

**disclaimer; **suzanne collins owns the hunger games, i own nothing.

**notes | **this turned out to be sadder than i wanted it to be, but i just can't help it, i love angst&tragedy. so yeah and i liked the prompt fallen angels so i decided to use that as the title. and sorry for the extreme ooc-ness. :/ i originally wanted to write this in second person but it's against the rules so i had to settle for third. hope you guys like this one-shot, especially zoey! :)

this is beta-d by the fantastic _mystiques _& _enchanteuse! _

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**a fallen angel  
**catoclove

**.**

Clove used to be an innocent, naïve little girl. Her mother told her that she used to run around the neighborhood with her dark brown hair in two cute braids. She smiled, recalling the memory. When she was seven years old – young, wild, and free – everyone liked her.

One year later, she began Career training. The braids came out, and she ran around the neighborhood screaming, "Look at my knives! I'm going to use them to win the Hunger Games!" Everyone laughed, because she obviously wasn't allowed to run around with real knives. They didn't think a cute little girl like her was capable of winning the Hunger Games.

She proved them wrong when she was ten. She tore apart all the dummies in the Training Center. She was a fierce fighter, and everyone liked her spirit. She had the possibility of bringing pride to her District. Her parents went around town, boasting that their only daughter was going to be a Hunger Games victor, and their family would live in the Victor's Village. She did the same with her classmates.

When she turned twelve, she was bursting with excitement. She was finally eligible to be reaped for the Hunger Games. She wanted to volunteer that first year, but her parents held her back, saying, "Look at that big boy. You wouldn't be able to survive with him in there."

So she waited a few more years. When she was fifteen, she was finally allowed to go. Everyone wanted her to go, since she was the best girl at the Training Center by far. She remembers screaming "I volunteer!" She pushed everyone out of her way as she ran to the stage, delighted. She remembers watching _him _volunteer as well. She remembers thinking that he was a little cute, but she couldn't let love get in the way of winning the Games. Although she enjoyed the flirty gestures he made towards her, she did her best at ignoring it.

And everyone knows what happened from there. She killed him, won the Games, and now she's a ruthless killing machine. She knows that she'll never be able to be carefree again. She'll never be able to run around the neighborhood with her hair in two braids ever again.

Long live the good old days.

**.**

She still remembers the day he died. It was also the day she won the 74th annual Hunger Games. She remembers killing Katniss Everdeen at the feast, which led to Lover Boy dying of infection from his leg. She remembers the fox-faced girl eating some nightlock left on the ground by Thresh, the guy from District 11. She remembers hunting down the District 11 boy with Cato, then killing – no, torturing him slowly and painfully.

Most of all, she remembers killing _him._

She was so heartless back then. She remembers what she said to him once she realized that they were the only two left. Her lips had curled into a malicious smirk as she spat out the words, "If I asked you, would you give me the world on a silver platter?"

She remembers him nodding, because he loved her, and she took advantage of that. She remembers the twinkle in his eyes as he reached for her hand, leaning in for a kiss. She remembers pushing him away and pinning him to the ground with her life on his throat. She remembers saying, "I'm sorry, Cato." He had only nodded, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to come. He would do anything for you. She remembers snorting, and thinking, _Some Career he is._

She remembers finally slitting his throat with her precious knife, smiling as his life slowly drained out of him. "I'm sorry," she said again, but really, she wasn't sorry. She's been trained to keep her eyes on the prize at all times, having grown up in District Two. It's his fault he was careless. It's his fault he cared more about love than winning the Hunger Games and bringing pride to his District.

She tells herself repeatedly that _it's not her fault, _but how does that explain the guilt she felt when the trumpets blared, announcing that she's the victor? How does that explain the sadness she felt when she hugged Brutus and Enobaria as they congratulated her? How does that explain the ache in her heart when she took the stage for her final interview, and then the viewing of the Games?

Lies, Clove, darling. They're all lies.

It's only when her train reaches District Two and she sees the grieving faces of his parents that she begins to realize that she's just another one of the monsters.

**.**

It's unbearable, walking through the streets. Her whole District hates her now, for killing Cato. They know that in order to have a Victor from their District, the other tribute has to die. They think that what she did to him was wrong. She let him fall in love with her, only to kill him at the end without a second thought. She's not respected, like the other Victors. To them, she was just a Mistake. With a capital M.

She thought that what she did was right. All she ever wanted was to win and make her District proud. But they're not proud. They loathe her. She's the worst of them all.

She's on the pursuit of happiness, doing everything she can to be happy, but nothing works. She tried doing dance, but the dance teacher wouldn't accept her as a student. She tried art but the art teacher did the same thing as the dance teacher. She tried to enroll back in school, and join a few extracurriculars, but no one wanted her there, so she dropped out of school.

The Games have injured her both mentally and physically. She has a few thin white scars, almost invisible, but she always knows they're there. She wishes that someone had told her that winning the Games breaks you. Maybe that's why all those victors resort to consuming drugs or alcohol – to try to wash away the pain.

It's been one month since the Games ended, and she stands in front of her full-length mirror in her new mansion, hating herself and this world. She looked very, very, very ugly. Her usually glossy dark brown hair was tangled in knots that she couldn't undo, no matter how much she tried. Her eyes were dull, her skin was pale, her lips were chapped, and she never, ever smiled.

_Monster. _The word echoes in her head, bouncing around, with no way out._Monster. _She's a monster. No, not one of the so-called "monsters" from that kiddie TV show from a long time ago,_Sesame Street, _but a ruthless killing machine.

_Monster. _She's a bad person. The worst. She killed innocent children. She tore apart all their hopes and dreams. Maybe they could've all had a life, a happy one. But she had to screw it up. _Monster. _She brutally murdered her own District partner, who was in love with her. What else was she supposed to do? You had to kill to win, right? But she knew that she had manipulated Cato. Played with his mind. She was sick. Twisted. _A m__onster._

A broken one, too.

She grabs her sharpest knife, and sinks the blade into her wrist._Drip. Drop. _The crimson blood stains the snow white carpet of her bedroom. She considers letting herself bleed out. Her death would be better for everyone, wouldn't it?

Five minutes later, she grabs a Band-Aid and covers up all the evidence. No one could know about this.

Then again, maybe they would be glad to see their little "Victor" harm herself, wouldn't they?

**.**

For some odd reason, she is invited to his funeral a few days later. She puts on her prettiest black dress, the one with the lace, and spends three hours getting dolled up. She doesn't even know why she's putting so much effort into her appearance, because it's just a cover, a mask for what's really going on inside. A fake smile is plastered across her face as she exits the mansion and walks to the cemetery, trying to ignore the glares of bystanders, their eyes threatening to pierce her soul (well, what's left of it, anyway).

The cemetery is a special one, designed especially for the tributes that were killed in the Hunger Games. Seventy-four years of Hunger Games. And every year, at least one tribute was dead from District Two. She lets out a little shriek upon seeing his parents, and it takes everything she has not to turn back around and run home. She has to do this. It's her fault he's dead. The least she could do is show up at his funeral. Maybe everyone would see that she's not a heartless bitch after all.

"Clove, honey, so glad you could make it!" Cato's mother greets her in a falsely sweet tone. She smiles and nods, not wanting to make conversation. Really, what is there to talk about? She killed their son. They hate her. End of discussion.

There are funeral wreaths hanging near his coffin, making her hate herself more for not being more thoughtful. The whole procession is fairly boring, and she wonders why his parents waited so long to hold the funeral, but she knew the answer. They needed time to grieve. The funeral was like a final good-bye, even though he'll be in their hearts forever.

She suddenly realizes that everyone is staring at her. Oh. They wanted her to say something. Of course. Let's hear a few words from the girl who murdered her District partner who loved her, shall we? Fine. She decides to give them what they want. "When I first saw Cato, I was eight years old. We met in the Training Center. I thought he was pretty cute, at a first, and a strong fighter as well. I didn't think much about it, because I didn't have time for petty relationships. In middle school, when he started going out with Katie, I'll admit it. I was a little jealous. But I still knew that I couldn't let it get in the way of my training. At that point, all I wanted was to win, which was what eventually led to my downfall. I realize now that I was so selfish and concerned about winning that I sabotaged him."

After taking a deep breath, she continues. "I know he wasn't perfect. He also wanted to win. But I think that the difference between the two of us is that he had a heart, and I didn't. He may look like a ruthless killer on the outside, but on the inside, he was sweet. Kind. Caring." She doesn't even know what she's saying at this point. Her brain is on autopilot, and she has no control over the words coming out of her mouth.

"On the inside, he's not a monster. I'm the monster. And I'm so, so, so, so sorry for being one and being a Mistake."

She doesn't have anything left to say, so she takes off her heels and runs, not knowing where's she's going, but that she'll be fine as long as she runs. She collapses in front of the Training Center, the realization that she loved Cato finally dawning upon her. She looks up into the sky, her eyes glistening with tears, and whispers, "I'm sorry, Cato. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for everything I ever did. I love you too." She knows that they'll never be together again, because she surely wasn't going to heaven.

She was too immature back then. Maybe if she'd just opened her heart a little and learned to love, things would be different.

The scars from cutting and from the Games are there to remind her that she used to be so seemingly angelic until she crumbled and broke. She used to be an angel, with her two cute little braids. But then she fell.

She's a monster, a ruthless killing machine, and most importantly...a fallen angel.

**.**

**fin.**

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**ending notes | **i'm proud of myself for finishing this early; usually i procrastinate on fic exchanges.

please leave a review before you go; thanks! :)

—rachel


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